Exile
by HardfacedQueenofMisadventure
Summary: A mirror, and a bond that runs deeper than either of them can comprehend. Eventual Hatter/Alice. T for dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a piece I've been working on for a few months now, and I've only just worked up the courage to post it, but it's not likely to get read anyway, so...  
****Before you read it, let me just say that I'm not an expert on the Wonderland musical, having only listened to the soundtrack, read the plot synopsis and watched a few clips of the show, so any plot discrepancies are my fault. I took a few liberties with Maddie's exile for the sake of the plot...don't behead me. **

* * *

The Hatter still thinks wistfully of the time when Madness was just a part of her title; just a word that she inherited along with pride of place at the head of the tea-table. She remembers back to a time when she knew exactly who she was, where she was and what she wanted. Now she's reduced to a mocking nickname, cast adrift and held prisoner in a roomful of mirrors. How she despises mirrors; a bitter irony, since she is, in essence, a reflection. She hates them for their honesty. As much as she'd like to fool herself into thinking that she's all right, the mirrors show her what is truly there. And the image never changes. A figure, paler than a wax doll, with heavy black shadows carving into the flesh beneath its eyes, bloodshot and glassy. Its hair hangs in wild disarray, tangled and matted and lank. It huddles in the middle of a freezing stone floor, hugging its frail body, sobbing and shrieking. The sound echoes in her head even when everything else has surrendered to silence.  
Sometimes it looks straight at her, those glazed eyes somehow managing to lance through to the very heart of her, understanding everything. It reaches for her, and she reaches back. When their hands meet, all she can feel is glass.

* * *

Words fill every part of her until it becomes too much to bear, but every time she tries to speak, a single stone falls from her lips, hitting the floor with the sound of a mountain being torn down. Her hands fly to her mouth, and she's certain that somebody has heard her this time. Any minute now, they'll find her, and they'll punish her. She waits and waits, but they never come. She resolves to be silent, just in case, but for every word she doesn't speak, a pain builds in her chest. The silence lasts for three days until the pain feels ready to tear her apart.  
She screams, draws air into her lungs and _screams _until her throat feels ready to bleed, until she is deafened by the sound of her own voice, until there is nothing left she can say.  
But there is always a single word left. Just one, lingering in the smallest part of her mind, just hidden from view. Always there, always driving her mad, always hurting her.  
It's a word that speaks of innocence, of sunny, daisy-covered hills and blue cotton and black patent shoes and hair the colour of the summer sun. It shouldn't hurt her so badly.  
A single word.  
_Alice._

* * *

When she can take it no longer, Maddie drags herself up from the floor, to the mirror she hates so much, faces the hateful wax-doll on the other side. It looks at her reproachfully, eyes filling with tears as though afraid of her. She presses her hot forehead to the cool glass, nose to nose with the truth of her existence. She wishes it were more than just a simple mirror. They put it there to spite her, she knows it. To give her a false hope, a false gateway to freedom. She still carries a shard of the real Looking Glass with her, the only fragment of her past life she was able to keep. It stays hidden deep within the bodice of her ragged gown, whispering of the Citadel, of her home. She presses it close to her; sometimes it cuts.  
She doesn't mind the pain anymore.

* * *

An opaque smear of red mars the cloudy glass, starkly unnatural against the keen brightness.  
Madeline prays she still has some power over mirrors. She's weak, and tired, and in so much pain, but she tries anyway, cut hand pressed desperately against the mirror. She summons any remaining traces of power up from the deepest part of her, silently willing the mirror to open for her.  
_Please.  
Please.  
Let me out of here. _  
Her eyes are burning and her muscles screaming with the effort, and she's on the point of giving up, but slow, impossible ripples begin spreading across the mirror from the point of contact, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a pebble. Slowly, slowly, the image before her changes. No longer her own reflection standing before her, but a room. A woman she recognises, loves and despises sitting on a bed, brushing her hair distractedly. Smiling, so _happy…! _

"Alice…" she breathes, that one word sounding crueller and more beautiful than anything she's ever heard. The woman on the other side of the mirror turns slowly to face her, dark eyes widening as they come face to face.  
Madeline can't help but smile.

_tbc?_

* * *

**This can be read as a oneshot, but if there's enough readership I might consider writing more...maybe. I should probably warn you now that I sort-of ship Madeline/Alice, and if I do continue this I will probably bring that into play. In my opinion, it makes more sense than White Hat, sorry to those of you that ship it.  
I would loooove to continue this at some point, so please please review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Surprise! Another chapter! Thanks to everybody who's read this so far. I'm hoping to continue this even further, but bear with me as my concentration levels are legendarily bad at the moment. **

* * *

Pain yanks Alice harshly out of her reverie; a cluster of tangles in her hair. She blinks, startled, and in the time it takes for her eyes to focus again, the vision that held her enthralled is gone. Really, it was only there for a second. It could have been anything. A trick of the light. Her over-active imagination, lack of sleep… anything.

There's _no way _she truly saw what she thinks she saw.

Still, she squints at the mirror, making sure. Nothing. Just herself. Squinting. Late.

_Late…?_

"_Mom? Mom, are you ready to go?"_

_Crap. _Chloe. Chloe's late for school. With one last extended backwards glance towards the floor-length mirror, she bolts, hairbrush still in hand.

Chloe's in the hallway, rucksack on her back, coat zipped up, socks pulled up and ready to roll. She's excited, that much is plain from the fact that she's bouncing up and down where she stands.

"C'mon, Mom! I've got my writing test today, and I know exactly what I'm gonna write about!"

"What's that, honey?" She barely has to ask; the mark of Wonderland is still clearly writ upon her daughter, popping up regularly in conversation, in dreams, in pictures tacked to her bedroom wall. She's under its spell. Just like she was when she was that age.

_History really does repeat itself. _

"…Sounds good, right, Mom? Almost as good as something you'd write."

"_Almost? _Sweetie, with an idea like that, you'll be outselling me in no time!" _Not that that's exactly hard, but still. "_Let's get going, Ms Future-Literary-Sensation!" Her elation is only barely forced. It's great to see Chloe so happy nowadays, so open.

But Chloe stops short. "Um … aren't you forgetting something?" Alice freezes.

"No." _Keys, cellphone, Chloe actually has a lunch today… _Wordlessly, Chloe points downwards. Alice's eyes follow her finger's downward trajectory… and catch sight of her own feet. Sans shoes.

"Oh." She's about to dash and get them when the phone rings. "Damn. Chloe, could you run and get them for me? This'll probably only take a sec; it's gonna be one of those scam calls for sure." Chloe scampers off, and Alice answers the phone.

It's not a scam call.

It's Jack.

* * *

The connection lasts for a heartbeat, maybe a little less, and then the image flickers and is gone. Madeline beats her blood-slick palm against the frosted glass and screams with frustration. No, no, she's come too far to lose now. She tries again, touching her hand to the scarlet print. This time, she gives it her all. She'll make it out of here, or die in the attempt.

A sudden surge of energy courses down her trembling arm. Her vision starts to blur and dim around the edges. Her mouth tastes like copper, and sweat soaks her gown and mats her hair. It's agony, but sure enough the mirror ripples again and an image swims into focus.

It's Alice. Shrunken down.

No, _idiot. _She remembers someone else. Annoyingly precocious, frustratingly brave. The daughter.

"Chloe?" Whispering the name makes her more certain of it. "Chloe." Louder this time.

Chloe glances up. Looks her right in the eye.

And screams.

* * *

"_Alice, hi. Look, I know this a weird time to ring, but… I was wondering, do you maybe wanna go out somewhere this weekend? You, me and Chloe. Ice-skating or something." _Alice smiles, in spite of Jack's legendarily bad timing. What more could she ask for right now?

"Jack, that sounds fantastic! When should we…?" She's cut off by the sudden scream from upstairs. Panic erases her elation in a heartbeat; she barely has time to gabble "I'll-call-you-back" into the receiver before she takes off running.

By the time she makes it to her bedroom, having tripped up and stubbed her toe on the stairs already, she's mentally prepared for a range of scenarios, from huge invading spiders, to sudden outbreaks of the Rage virus.

She's not prepared at all for what she sees.

* * *

**Okay, so it's not the longest chapter in history, but there will be more. Feedback would be very much appreciated at this stage, along with suggestions for elements you would like to see in the story. I have a plot outline, but not much else, so any suggestion is a good one :)**


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